Unwanted Company
by MiHnn
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Hermione seeks companionship and gradually accepts the reluctant friendship of a lonely Slytherin. There is nothing worse than befriending the enemy, unless it's an enemy who's up to something.
1. September

**A/N - Written for the 8th Year Itch Challenge over at Granger Enchanted. The requirements are...**

**_The Eighth Year Itch Challenge!_**

Forced back to Hogwarts to complete their NEWTS we welcome the 8th years! Five months after the war has ended all witches and wizards that missed their seventh year are forced back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even our golden trio is not exempt, with Kingsley Shacklebolt unwilling to show favouritism, even to their world's saviour!

Join us as we take a journey through the 8th year, with their own tower, barely any rules and house loyalties skewed...we're about to have a bumpy ride!

**THE RULES!**

Canon Facts that MUST be included!

Voldemort's death

The Trio's Horcrux Quest

Malfoy Manor Capture

Ron/Hermione's kiss

Harry/Ginny relationship (you can have them break up or keep them together it's up to you!)

_**Non Canon Facts that MUST be included.**_

Ginny Weasley is Headgirl

The 8th years have no delegated houses

They all live together in one tower, sharing a common room, kitchen, bathroom (which should resemble the Prefect bathroom)

They are required to attend at least two meals per day in the Great Hall where they have their own designated 8th year table

One illicit teacher/student Student/Older male not at Hogwarts relationship(this student must be in the 8th year class and can be Hermione or a minor pairing)

One slash pairing

Hogsmeade/Diagon Alley visits whenever they like, not limited to weekends (again this can just be mentioned to set the scene)

Tension between Hermione/Ginny Weasley (eg: Ginny thinks she can waltz about the 8th year dorm when no one wants her there)

A voyeur

A couple caught in flagrante delicto

Hermione defending someone (can be anyone you choose)

Whoever is dead can be alive again (WITH valid explanation)

**Right...This should be fun :D**

* * *

**September**

.

Hermione Granger leaned forward on her toes, the grip on the wall she held tightening just as she peeked around the corner to make sure that there was no one else around. Listening carefully for the familiar growl of distaste and the tiny 'meow' of haughtiness, she deduced that Filch was probably in another, more remote section of the Hogwarts castle with his tattle-tale cat, Mrs Norris. After waiting for a moment longer to ensure that she was alone, she took slow, cautious steps as she made her way to the one place in the castle that could be called her haven: the library.

The first day of her return to Hogwarts had gone as Hermione had expected. Even though it was obvious that he was happy to be back, Ron spoke her ear off about how useless it was to attend their seventh year when they should be exempt. _They should just let us pass the bloody exams without sitting it. We deserve it. Who else got rid of the fucking Horcruxes?_

That conversation was promptly followed by her chastising him for several minutes on his use of language, which was then followed by an underhanded remark that she was similar to a certain older female in the Weasley family. Hermione had huffed in displeasure. She hardly nagged the way Molly did with Arthur. She was more logical in what she usually said.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't take the requirement to attend Hogwarts all that well either. _There are Death Eaters out there, Voldemort-supporters. How can they expect us to study when there might be wizards trying to kill Muggles or even trying to take over the Ministry again? We could help._

That conversation was followed by Hermione using her soothing, logical tone of voice to reassure Harry that the Ministry of Magic obviously had everything under control and Kingsley wouldn't have insisted that they all return with their batch mates to finish their final year at Hogwarts if they didn't. After all, McGonagall had done her best to restore the school back to its former glory; teachers were willing to teach again, parents were willing to send their children to school again, and students were willing to come back to live out the last year of their childhood properly without the fear of the Carrows looming over their heads. Personally, she was looking forward to finishing her NEWTs. It would be nice to go back to the days where an evil Dark Lord wasn't trying to destroy everyone who shared her same blood type and planning to kill her best friend and all those around him. She had too much of an extraordinary life thus far; what she needed now was an ordinary one.

Biting her lower lip in concentration, Hermione tiptoed silently until she finally came to the entrance to the Hogwarts library, her happiness increasing with each step. She really needed the peace and quiet this room could offer. It had been nearly fifteen minutes ago that a fight had occurred in the common room that was to be shared by the eighth years for the coming year. They had all been surprised when they had entered the Great Hall to find five tables instead of four. They were even more surprised when McGonagall had stated in no uncertain terms that all eighth years, which were incidentally all those who didn't sit their NEWTs their previous year, were to have their own tower. The uproar had been massive. The Gryffindors got along fairly well with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, especially since a good lot of them fought by their side when they faced Voldemort all those months ago. It was the Slytherins that were the problem. Particularly one Draco Malfoy and one Pansy Parkinson. She witnessed the yelling, the threats and the wands being drawn while a grim-faced McGonagall had tried her best to bring about order within the group of reluctant students. After the new Headmistress of Hogwarts had left, Hermione was then forced to witness the glares and silent sneers between all parties before she realized that she needed to get away. For her, their return to Hogwarts signified the chance to do something that she had put on hold for the greater good; she would rather focus on that.

Looking down both hallways on either side to check once again that she was alone, Hermione quickly entered the room full of books, a relieved breath leaving her body when she realized that she was all alone in a place that was quiet and far from the hostile environment their new common room was. She silently moved around the empty tables and chairs towards the closest bookcase, the moonlight streaming through the large windows helping her eyesight to adjust easily to the dimly lit room. Hermione inhaled the familiar smell of the old parchment as she found herself immediately drawn to the stack of books that boasted historical significance in the wizarding world. Her eyes roamed across the titles slowly before her gaze fell on a leather-bound book, the familiarity of which made her smile. With nimble fingers, she pulled out _Hogwarts: A History_, the first magical book she had ever read and therefore the one piece of literature that would always hold an important place in her heart. Hugging the leather bound book to her chest, she searched out her most favourite part of the library where she usually worked: a seat that kept her back to the window so she wouldn't get distracted, but one that she usually used to keep an eye on the entrance to the library for when Harry and Ron used to barge in to tell her of their latest discovery pertaining to whatever mystery they had unwittingly gotten themselves into. It took a while for her to actually open the book, pull out her wand and whisper '_lumos_' so she could read, choosing first to sit still in the silent, dark library while enjoying the moment of peace and calm that enveloped her.

The instant her wand was lit by the familiar bright light she was planning to read under, Hermione looked up, an eerie feeling of someone watching her causing the short hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She gasped softly when her eyes landed on a shadow, someone who was sitting silently in the library, hidden in the dark, his eyes watching her. Her grip tightened on her wand, her breathing becoming infinitely shakier as a sense of fear wracked her body.

Silently, the figure pulled out his own wand and after a soft '_lumos_', his pale blond hair and grey eyes were lit by the bright light of his wand. Hermione stared at Draco Malfoy in surprise, her fear turning to panic within a few seconds. But Malfoy simply glanced at her coolly as he stood up and made his way over to the Potions section of the library. Hermione watched him with bated breath as he picked up a book and made his way to a table at the other end of the large room. He sat down and without another glance towards her, whispered the incantation to suspend the ball of light above him so he could read easily, his actions or expressions showing no indication that he was even affected by her presence.

Hermione continued to watch his impassive features as he continued to ignore her, her confusion increasing with each passing second. Deciding to ignore the younger Malfoy to the best of her ability, she went back to reading the book in front of her, her concentration wavering every few seconds. Maybe he wanted to get away just like her. Maybe he wasn't up to anything, choosing to sneak into the library in the dead of night to read. Maybe he found solace in the knowledge that books could give him. But whatever the reason Malfoy had to be in the library, it was obvious that he wasn't as fascinated by her presence as she was by his. With a sigh, Hermione tried her best to concentrate on the wording in her own book. In the back of her mind she wondered who would leave first, she or Malfoy.

When Hermione left an hour later, her back stiff and her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, Malfoy was still studiously ignoring her, his eyes fixed in earnest at the Potions text he was reading.

.

_**TBC**_


	2. October

**A/N - I know some of you have read this chapter. But I've decided to turn this story into a multi-chapter following the months of the school year. Next chapter will be up soon. **

* * *

**October**

.

Draco Malfoy had always found Halloween tedious.

It wasn't that he was the grouch of the parties or that they held particularly depressing moments of his childhood. The simple explanation was that he never really understood the concept. In a world where werewolves, Dementors, Acromantulas and giant squids existed, what was so special about dressing up like monsters they saw in everyday life? They were fools, all of them. He could hear them from where he sat at the top of the Astronomy Tower, the ones who were chattering meaninglessly, laughing at ridiculous notions as if they had no care in the world. And why shouldn't they? The Dark Lord was defeated. The wizarding world was free of nearly a decade's worth of terror. Pothead sat on the metaphorical throne of the wizarding world, worshipped by all those he had 'saved'. Hogwarts was re-opened. A whole new generation of mixed blood now roamed the halls. The teachers were happy. The students were happy. Everyone was just so bloody happy.

Snorting, he took a deep gulp of the Firewhisky he had smuggled onto school grounds. The amber liquid burned through him, giving him just what he needed and warming his very soul. He leaned heavily against the hard wall of the tower, a leg dangling dangerously over the balcony wall. Out of all the hiding places he had used so far, this was his favourite. No one had come up here since that fateful night, save for him. Astronomy lessons were no longer conducted here, but in another tower, previously in disuse. He found the place oddly calming. And he found that he felt particularly alive when he sat the way he currently did, his legs on either side of the low balcony wall. It was so easy to contemplate slipping just a little bit to the right and just... falling. Lifting the flask, he studied the Malfoy family crest engraved in the silver, glittering under the moonlight like it held the long lost glory of his family. But that was exactly what it was, wasn't it? The loss of glory, the loss of fear, the loss of respect. No longer were they part of the elite of the wizarding world. They were the outcasts, the lepers. Thrown from society without even a basic 'Thank you' for the many Galleons they gave to help rebuild. What kind of society were they living in, where forgiveness couldn't be bought as easily as a peacock feather quill? The very thought disgusted him.

He was alone, after all. An eighteen-year-old whose parents were held in Azkaban. An eighteen-year-old who was unable to leave this magic-forsaken country due to restraints put on him by the Ministry of Magic. He had hardly played a significant part in the second war, and yet, he was held responsible for doing what all of the wizarding world had done, but never had the courage to admit. He did what he had to do to save his life and the lives of his family. Yet Harry-bleeding-Potter and his band of minions didn't even get a slap on the wrist for defying the rules of the Ministry. He found the double standard sickening. Not everyone can aspire to be the Boy Who Lived, a scar across his forehead, ridiculous glasses, and hair that just sticks out every which way.

Scowling, he took another long gulp. This had been a ritual of sorts ever since the beginning of the year. Merlin, who was he kidding? It had been a ritual since he found out that he was to attend Hogwarts for his seventh year as an adult. Apparently, the lessons taught by the Carrows were no longer valid in the eyes of the Ministry, and his parents thought it prudent for their only son to attend a school where everyone hated him for his actions during the last two years; except for the Slytherins. They simply ignored him, believing him to be unworthy of their time. After all, how could a person be so close to the goings-on in the Death Eater inner circle and not give away the trio's identity? What he had done didn't make him a hero. It was an impulse at the time, and he could thank his freedom for it. The Wizengamot believed him to be of 'noble heart' but put in an impossible situation. Scoffing to himself, he sipped at the warm liquid, noticing that it was losing its sting. Instead of Azkaban, like his parents, he was on magical probation, unable to leave England for the next two years. The only exception was Hogwarts, which the Ministry thought he needed to attend to finish his education. Apparently, Durmstrang was out of the question because it was 'too far'. And as if living with people who despised him wasn't enough, every spell he cast was monitored to ensure that he didn't lean towards the 'Dark Side' ever again. He couldn't even cast a simple '_Accio_' spell unless it was during lessons. His wand no longer felt like it was completely his own. It was prison, as far as he was concerned. There might not be bars around him, and he might still have his wand, but with everyone watching him with a wary eye, keeping a substantial amount of distance from him, he felt like he held a sickness that no one wanted to catch. It was as if people expected the Death Eater disease to crawl up their skin if they got too close. It had been weeks at Hogwarts and the only people who had spoken to him were the teachers, the ghosts, and the house-elves. Definitely not a step up from the riveting conversations he used to have with his housemates over who would get to be bullied on a daily basis. These days, however, the Slytherins in his dorm preferred speaking at him rather than to him, with scalding remarks about his failed attempt at his father's legacy.

It was close to midnight and the party on the ground level seemed to be in full swing. Everyone was probably in the Great Hall, enjoying their drinks, company, and jokes. Probably not even realising how pathetically a Malfoy was sitting in the place that he was convinced caused his downfall. Had he made another decision that night, everything would be different. Had he not run after Dumbledore's death, maybe he would have a place among the others at the party below. Or, had he killed Dumbledore himself, he would have had complete allegiance to the Dark Lord, Potter would have been recognised and he would be sitting at the tyrant's right hand with everything he could have desired. Not drinking by himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, counting down the days until he could finally have his freedom.

With a forlorn sigh, he placed the flask in the pocket of his robes, and hopped off the balcony wall. His thoughts always ended in the same place every night. But he never had the courage to do anything about it. He was too much of a coward to jump. At least he could use the Halloween celebrations to finally use the common room. He lost that privilege, having being banished to his room since the start of the school year. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he left the tower, his footsteps deliberate and slow as he descended the cold stones. He had no intention of running into anyone he might know. He wanted to avoid every person who might give him a suspicious glance and have a silent evening alone. A difficult feat, considering that meant the whole bloody school. He reached the ground floor without incident, and hoping for his continuous luck, started for the dungeons.

But that was when he heard them.

* * *

Ron groaned. "Why are we doing this again?"

"No idea," Harry piped in. "It could be because some people just don't like enjoying themselves at Halloween."

"Maybe." Ron nodded. "Or it could be that some people simply don't like the concept of 'fun'."

"Or parties."

"Music."

"Pumpkin juice."

"Or pumpkin pie." The red head sighed dreamily.

Hermione rolled her eyes before she looked over her shoulder to glare at her two best friends. "Honestly, you two. Anyone would think that I was dragging you away from the celebration of the year."

Ron stalled to cock his head to the side and regard the girl they had been painstakingly following for the last ten minutes. "Aren't you dragging us away from the celebration of the year? This is the first party Hogwarts has had in over a year. I'd say it's pretty special."

With a huff of frustration, Hermione turned around to face the two, her hands resting on her hips in a 'Mrs Weasley' fashion. "First of all, I didn't ask you to accompany me, you two came to that conclusion all on your own. Secondly, what is so great about this year's Halloween party, anyway?"

Ron looked at her in perfect seriousness when he said, "Did you not see Parvati's costume?" He turned to face Harry incredulously. "Did she not see how short that dress was?"

Harry looked at her sympathetically. "It was pretty short, Hermione."

"So? It's not like you don't get to see those legs." She sighed in exasperation. "You're dating her, Ron."

"Yeah," Ron said in an obvious tone. "But, we're fighting right now. Which means, I won't get to see those legs any other time."

She rolled her eyes. "What are you guys fighting about this time? How you're not always at her side? Or how you don't always feed her your chicken pies?"

He looked down at his feet. "She's just...concerned. About...er...things."

Hermione sighed. "Like what things?" Her tone betrayed her impatience.

Ron's ears turned red as Harry looked at the wall to his right, finding it completely fascinating. "She just thinks that I'm hanging out with you too much." He said it quickly, as if hoping not to linger on the topic too long. But knowing Ron for so many years, she could easily understand his mumblings.

"B-But we're just friends," Hermione stammered as she felt the blush creep up her neck.

"Well, yeah." Ron mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "_Now."_

They looked away from each other awkwardly for a moment until Harry cleared his throat. "So... er... now, where are we going again?"

His not-so-subtle change of subject worked. "Honestly, do you two not listen to me?" At their sheepish expressions, she huffed. "Like I said the first three times, the house-elves need some help getting rid of some creature in the storage room next to the kitchens."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mind helping out," Harry said as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "But, can't they just...snap their fingers and do something about it?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "Don't you have a mini elfen army to defend the rights of house-elves everywhere in your Spe-" She glared at him. "I mean... in your S.P.E.W group?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you didn't want to help me out, why did you come with me?"

Her friends shared a look. "Well, we didn't want you to go alone," Ron said sincerely.

She raised her eyebrows at them. "Alone? In Hogwarts?" A new thought suddenly struck her. "Is that why you've been trying to convince me not to do this tonight? Because you didn't want to be late for the party, but you didn't want me to go alone either?"

Ron looked at Harry who seemed really uncomfortable. "Sorry. I just..." Harry shrugged. "We'd rather you not go alone. That's all."

Her stern look softened. "The war is over, Harry. It's safe. Don't think I haven't noticed how the two of you haven't left me alone since the start of the school year."

"It's not completely safe," he said seriously.

"It's safe enough." She sighed in exasperation. "Look. I'm just going to the kitchens. It's not far from here. How about you two go back to the party and we meet there afterwards?" They both opened their mouths to protest, but she spoke over them easily. "Besides, don't you need time to get into your costumes? I'll be safe. I promise." She grabbed both their arms and turned them around, shoving their backs lightly. "If the 'monster' is anything I can't handle, I'll call you. Okay?"

Ron turned an uncharacteristic scrutinising glare at her. "I just don't understand why you can't do this tomorrow."

She huffed. "Because, the house-elves need help _now_." She pushed them again. "Okay, you two. Shoo. I'll be fine."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

They started walking away, even as they continued to protest. "Because we can stay-"

"No, thank you, Harry." She laughed. It was obvious that they really didn't want to miss the party. And she wasn't going to drag them along for something that they really didn't want to do. This time, anyway.

"But you're definitely coming after."

"Yes! Now go!"

With a quick wave, they turned the corner and disappeared. She felt the smile on her lips falter the minute she lost sight of them. This was not how she envisioned spending the first Halloween after the war, but circumstances change.

Hermione turned around to continue her path to the kitchens, when she was startled by the presence of a person she really didn't want to be around. She barely suppressed a gasp of surprise. "Oh. It's you," she said calmly, even though her heart had just started beating a mile a minute from the unwanted surprise. "Doing your part for Halloween, I see. Any new kids you can jump out and scare?"

"Granger." Malfoy acknowledged her with a hint of a sneer as he leaned against the wall, emanating every bit the attitude of casual laziness. "What's your costume?" He eyed her jeans and jumper in contempt. "A Mudblood? How original."

"Thank you." She smiled humourlessly. "I especially like your costume. Tell me, did you get a discount for the 'Prat of the Year' costume or were they simply giving it away to those worthy?"

His lips split into a lecherous smirk. "I won it. First place was this, second place was a wig of hideous brown curls. Something, I see, you didn't need to win."

Hermione barely stopped herself from touching her curls self-consciously. "Yes, well. We all do aim to be a prat. But I am glad that the person who is most deserving won it." Raising her head high, she started for the kitchens again, determined to keep Malfoy and his snark behind her. "And have fun with your dark brooding," she cried over her shoulder just for good measure.

She had been walking for barely two minutes before she noticed the footsteps behind her hadn't ceased. Huffing in annoyance, she turned around to face her follower. "Are you following me?"

Malfoy, who looked positively casual even though she had just accused him of doing something unseemly, raised an elegant eyebrow at her. "No one in their right mind would ever follow _you_. I'm simply going to the dungeons."

"This way?" She gestured to the hall behind her. Malfoy simply stared back with a blank expression across his features. "Isn't it faster to go through the other staircase?"

"I prefer this staircase," he said with a light shrug.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why this staircase?"

"Why _not_this staircase?"

Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself so she could stifle the impulse to reach for her wand and hex him into next year. "Malfoy," she said slowly through gritted teeth. "Stop following me."

He eyed her warily for a moment before he said in a bored tone, "I'm not following you."

Screaming incessantly inside her head, Hermione swiftly turned on her heel and moved faster. It boggled her mind that when everyone else had managed to steer clear of him for the past two months, she was the one who happened to run into him purely by chance. She half expected him to follow her, and she wasn't disappointed. Deciding that two could play at this game, she took an unneeded turn, then another, and another. Until finally, she let out a low, happy breath when she thought that she had finally lost him and ducked behind a large red curtain that draped precariously over a hollow in the stone wall. Hermione stayed silent, leaning against the cold stone while trying to control her heavy breathing for fear of being heard and giving away her location. What was wrong with him, anyway? He hadn't spoken a word to her or anyone else since they had started school. Then, out of all days, today he decided to play the annoying former Death Eater hell-bent on making her break her vow of not hexing people unless it was for a really, _really_good cause. Maybe there was something foul this Halloween that made people act completely different. And by people, she meant arrogant gits who turned into annoying gits. She probably stood in that hollow wall for maybe a few minutes before she finally relaxed, only to panic the moment the drapes were pulled aside to reveal a pale-faced smirk.

"Are we playing something that I'm not aware of, Granger?" he asked mockingly.

Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate when a strong smell filled her nostrils. Her eyes narrowed. "Have you been drinking?"

Startled, Malfoy moved back. "You know what Firewhisky is? I'm impressed. Never knew that about you, Granger. Tell me, do you also smoke?"

Rolling her eyes, she stepped closer, finding his behaviour very peculiar. "No wonder you're like this today."

He seemed ready to make a scathing remark before his curiosity won out and he changed his mind. "Like what?"

"Like..." She cocked her head to the side, trying to decide the right word to use. "...nice."

He choked out a laugh. "Me? Nice?"

Hermione grinned at the wake of her new discovery. "Admit it. You're a nice drunk!"

His smirk fell. With one sentence she had undone his personality. She seemed ready to break into song and run to the Great Hall to tell everyone this good news. So, naturally, he was about to start his sneering and spitting in her face to create Mudblood terror when he and his wall companion were suddenly doused head to toe in glitter.

_"Ooh, look, look! It's the Muggle-born and the Muggle hater!_

Hiding behind the drapery!

Wonder what everyone else will say,

When they find out that they were smoochery! Hehahahaha!"

"Peeves!" they yelled simultaneously, only to hear a maniacal laugh as the poltergeist twirled over them twice, threw another handful of glitter over their heads, ruffled Malfoy's hair with a cackle and left, singing, "Smooching! Smooching! The pure-blood and Muggle-born! They're smooching!"

Malfoy's face settled into a sneering scowl as he called after the fleeing ghost. "Come back here, you white cloud. I swear, as soon as the ban is lifted, I will come back here, track your see-through arse down and curse you so bad you won't be flying over anything for a bloody century!" He started slapping away the glitter from his robes furiously only to stop when he heard a giggle behind him. He rounded on her so fast, Hermione stopped mid-giggle. "Find something funny, Granger?"

He might have been sneering enough to scare third years, but the fact that multi-coloured flakes of glitter were stuck all over Malfoy's usually pristine face was her undoing. Hermione couldn't help it, she laughed. And knowing that Malfoy couldn't hex her because of it made the moment even more precious.

"This is_ not_funny," Malfoy spat out, as he angrily dusted his robes.

"Oh, I think it is a bit funny." She giggled even as she pulled out her wand. "Here." And out of courtesy that came from somewhere deep within her, she aimed the wand at him first and cleaned him up before applying the same spell on herself. After she pocketed her wand, she looked up to see Malfoy staring at her curiously. "What?"

Malfoy scrutinised her for a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, before he shrugged. "Nothing."

She raised her eyebrow at him. He did that a lot. But it always meant something. "Well, this has been..." She couldn't find the right word. "...something. I..." She moved around him. "I'll see you around." It was nice of her to give him that courtesy, she had to admit. Especially since 'I'll see you around' made it seem like she did want to randomly bump into him and start hurling insults. But it felt right saying something that she usually told everyone but Slytherins. She convinced herself that it was the right thing to do, given the situation they had been in. On the other hand, maybe she was over-thinking it.

With that final goodbye of sorts, she started heading towards her intended destination only to sigh inwardly when she noticed that Malfoy was still following her. She decided to try another tactic: ignorance, which got even harder to do as he casually started strolling beside her. "Has anyone ever told you that you don't walk like a witch?"

Hermione's first impulse was to question this ridiculous notion, but then remembered the promise she had made to herself just a moment ago: ignore Malfoy.

"You walk a bit hurriedly. No grace at all."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, moving even faster.

"I mean, I wouldn't say you're completely off the mark," he continued in his arrogant tone, his long legs keeping up with her easily. "Had you been a pure-blood, you would have made a decent witch. At least that hair could be easily fixed with magic. But that nosy, all-knowing, hand-raising personality of yours..." He made a sound of disappointment, as if the loss was truly great.

She tried, she really tried not to do anything rash. But just as her mouth parted to retaliate with a few choice words of her own, his tone changed to one of thoughtfulness.

"You know, I never thought of you as such a great liar. But for Pothead and Weasel to believe that spiel..."

Knowing that she was going to regret it, but unable to resist the bait, she answered him. "Believe what?" Her tone was snappish as she turned a curious gaze onto him. Malfoy, on the other hand, stayed annoyingly silent, his eyes staring rigidly before him. "Believe what?" She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes and decided to go back to ignoring him, but not before she said her piece. "I don't know what you think you heard when you eavesdropped on us, but I, unlike you, don't lie to my best friends."

His lips twisted in amusement. "I wouldn't call what you said honest."

"And how would you know whether what I said was honest or not?"

"Any half-brained twit could see you were lying through your teeth. And the fact that those two tossers didn't even notice proves that I was right about their level of intelligence."

Hermione fought the urge to defend her friends, knowing that it would simply take them down another path, one that would lead straight to a full-blown argument. "Is there something you want to say to me, Malfoy?" Again, her willing companion let silence fall between them. Malfoy continued walking alongside her as if wrapped up in his own thoughts. Just as she made peace with the fact that he wouldn't say anything remotely meaningful, he did.

"You're lonely." He said it so softly that she nearly missed it.

That was... unexpected. "What?" That thought was ridiculous and unfounded. How in the world could she be lonely when she was always surrounded by people? She knew she had to let it go. He was simply trying to irritate her. Yet, even though she could see that this was not going to end well, the need to defend herself was overwhelming. "I'm not lonely," she said forcefully, turning towards him. He just simply looked at her as if he knew something she didn't. "I'm not! I've got Harry and Ron." She ignored his snort. "And I've got friends and family..." She faltered. Technically, she had parents, but they still didn't know about her existence. It wasn't safe enough to bring them home just yet, not with Death Eater supporters still trying to kill Harry. "How can I be lonely?" she asked strongly. His only response was to shrug again.

Hermione huffed in frustration. It was obvious that the Firewhisky had gone to his head and he was simply playing with her. "I know you're lonely..." He paused, as if contemplating his next words. "...because I am," he finished with a sigh, his words quick and rough.

Surprised, Hermione stopped walking. That was definitely not what she had expected him to say. As she tried to explain to herself how Firewhisky affects a part of the brain that had any sense, she noticed that while she had stalled, Malfoy had not. Moving quickly, she managed to join him, easing back into a comfortable stride beside him. She had never known him to speak so candidly before. Although, she was never his friend, so how would she have known? He always gave the air of arrogance. If he was alone, she always assumed it was his choice. If he missed meals in the Great Hall, she assumed it was his choice. This opinion she had of him hadn't changed much since the war. It was true that he hadn't let their identities be known to Bellatrix, but the trio could never make out what he had been thinking at the time. Since they came back to school, he had stayed out of their way, and the same could be said for them. The thought that Draco Malfoy might not be his cocky, self-assured self, as he always tried to project, was unsettling. For once, she didn't know what to say on the matter.

"You can close your mouth, Granger. I'm not a doppelganger," he said calmly, his gaze staying straight ahead and away from her.

She snapped her mouth shut. "Sorry...I..."

"We're here," he said coolly, his grey eyes looking at her evenly.

Hermione felt the need to say _something_. But it was obvious that this was the only glimpse she was going to get into the world of the non-prat version of Malfoy and he had closed the curtain on the performance. With a sigh, she took the steps leading down to the floor below, hardly surprised when he followed her.

* * *

Malfoy's eyes widened a fraction before he turned his gaze on Hermione, who stood beside him nervously. "A ghoul. You're missing a Halloween party...to get rid of a _ghoul_?" He turned back to the ugly creature, which resembled a slimy, buck-toothed ogre, lying sprawled across the stack of vegetables in the storage area while it snored loudly. It really was a beastly thing, snorting in the middle of every other guttural snore with saliva dripping in a steady stream to land on a stack of potatoes. Malfoy gagged. He probably couldn't believe this thing had been in this storage area for the past few days and he had eaten food that might have come from this very room. She expected McGonagall to get a lengthy letter of complaint tomorrow.

Hermione, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably beside him. She never liked being called out on her choices. "Well...I..."

"Merlin, Granger. What would Saint Potter have said if you had brought him here? He would have called you mental the first chance he got. And even though it goes against my very nature, I might have to agree with him."

She crossed her arms over her chest to glare at him in defiance. "Are you saying you'd rather have a ghoul sleep on our supplies?"

"No," he said snidely. "I'm saying that any dim-witted house-elf could 'snap its fingers' and solve this problem. Even Potter thought so. And that's saying something. What do they need you for, anyway? To tell the ghoul his rights before you cart him off to some awful, old attic?"

Hermione didn't quite like the insult aimed at her belief in equal rights between all intelligent, living things. Her eyes narrowed at him to prove her displeasure. "Firewhisky wearing off, Malfoy?"

"A tad bit, yeah." He gestured behind them. "Shall we go then? This is a waste of time if I ever saw one. And I watched Weasel try to read a book once."

Her glare returned tenfold. "We're not leaving until we shift him back to where he came from. And you're going to help me."

The frown he already sported deepened. "I've got a better idea. Blinky!"

A tattered looking house-elf appeared near Malfoy's legs with a loud crack, her fragile body covered by a torn tea cosy. The creature bowed low, its long, crooked nose touching the stone floor. "Yes, Master. Master called for Blinky." It squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

"Move this thing to a corner of the castle. Somewhere it can't come out of." He gestured lazily towards the sleeping creature, ignoring Hermione's sound of protest.

"Yes, Master. Of course, Master," squeaked the little thing with another low bow, before snapping its fingers and disappearing with a loud crack, ghoul in tow.

Hermione stared at the space where the creature had been, gobsmacked, until Malfoy started moving away from the storage area. "Why did you do that? I was just about to-"

"You were about to do something unnecessary. House-elves can take care of themselves. They could have gotten rid of that blasted thing days ago. What did you do? Tell them that you wanted to take care of it yourself?" At her silence, he stopped to turn on her. She had reddened considerably, which caused his lips to split in a delightful smirk. "That is exactly what you did, wasn't it?"

"I... It's just that..." Hermione stammered. "They don't trust me yet. This is my final year and I want them to trust me before I leave."

"Trust you?" Malfoy questioned, his tone betraying exactly how ridiculous he thought she was being. "Those tiny little buggers who are supposed to do as we say? Did you want them to join your little elfen group?"

"They are not supposed to be slaves, Malfoy. They are supposed to be free."

"Free? You're barmy to even think that. Free to what? Turn on the wizarding community and enslave us? What ink have you been inhaling, Granger? House-elves are just that; elves for the house," he said condescendingly.

Hermione scoffed. "You'd like to think that you're so different from Ron, but you're just like him." She smiled sweetly, knowing that that was the biggest insult she could have ever given the git. With a twirl of her hair, she strutted towards the exit, enjoying Malfoy's insulted sneer.

"I am no Weasley," he snapped, even as he followed her up the stairs.

"Of course not," she continued sarcastically. "The two of you are simply pure-blooded and have the same opinions on house-elves." She shrugged mockingly. "That's all."

"You take that back, Granger."

Turning around to give him another innocent look, Hermione smirked. "Why? What are you going to do, Malfoy? Make me?" Malfoy not being able to use his wand definitely had its perks.

Hermione continued towards the Great Hall, a spring in her step, with a scowling Malfoy following forlornly behind her. He might have spoiled her plan to gain the trust of the house-elves and recruit them into her society, but it wasn't the end of the year yet. Not to mention that insulting the arrogant git who was walking behind her had its perks. She was finally in the mood for the Halloween bash that she had avoided the past week. He had been somewhat right. She had been lonely, feeling the loss of her parents since the end of the Second Wizarding War. She didn't feel like she could truly celebrate until she had them back with her, safe and with their memories intact.

As they reached the large double doors leading to the Great Hall, she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her falter. She turned towards him. "Coming?"

Malfoy seemed to contemplate his options before calmly replying with, "I'd rather feed my finger to a Blast-Ended Skrewt." He made a move to turn on his heel and leave, but Hermione wasn't going to be dismissed so easily.

"I never figured you for a scaredy cat."

He stopped to look at her incredulously. "Did you just call me a cat? Like that ugly fur ball of yours?"

"It's a term, Malfoy. What I really called you was...a coward, chicken, quitter-"

"I get the point." He scowled. "I am no coward."

"Then prove it." Hermione gestured to the open doors grandly while she gave him a meaningful look. But the arrogant Slytherin stayed resolutely stubborn, looking at her with an expression of barely concealed boredom. "Or, would you rather me tell everyone what a nice person you've become since you've turned a new leaf and joined our cause...?"

"That's absolute rubbish. I never-"

"No." She spoke over him. "But you did help me get rid of a slovenly creature to help out the house-elves."

"Bollocks! I did it so we wouldn't get food poisoning. Not to help the bloody elves."

"Not the way I say it."

His eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"I would." She smirked innocently. "How do you think the rest of your house would react to that news?"

He eyed her disbelievingly before he scoffed in confidence. "No one would believe you."

Her smirk widened. "I beg to differ. You see..." She pulled out her wand and twirled it languidly, the way he used to do before, when he had no care in the world except to think up ways to torture her, and the lives of her friends. "I think people will believe me over you. Don't you think?"

His eyes narrowed at her. "Why? Because you're Potter's precious cargo?"

She bit her lower lip, wondering if what she was going to say next was going to truly make him want to kill her. "No." She stopped twirling her wand and looked down at it, the memories rushing through her mind relentlessly. "Because when you had the chance to say something, you didn't."

He glared at her hard, his eyes stormy with warning. "That never happened."

"But it did. Everyone knows it." She had wanted to ask him this one question for months. "Why didn't you tell on us?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment, Hermione wondered if she had gone too far. Yet, the next second, he surprised her by smirking at her casually. "You know, Granger," he began conversationally. "I don't recall us ever being friends."

"No. We're not friends," she agreed sincerely. "But we could be." The minute the words left her mouth, she wanted to take it back. Malfoy, on the other hand, eyed her curiously, as if he was trying to understand her hidden agenda.

"Friends?" he mocked. "What could you possibly have to gain from that?"

Hermione shrugged. If he could be vague and not answer her questions, she could do the same. "You still have nearly a year left here, Malfoy. Would you rather not have anyone? I'm not offering you friendship exactly. More like...companionship."

He eyed her warily. "Do I have a choice?"

She grinned, recognising the sign of defeat. "Not unless you want people to know how much you love helping me."

"That's not bloody likely."

Hermione shrugged. "The Quaffle is in your hands, Malfoy. What will it be?"

The glare he aimed at her wasn't nearly as cruel as it used to be. He actually looked somewhat impressed. "If I do this, you'll keep quiet about tonight?" he asked her sceptically.

"Of course." Hermione battered her eyelashes so innocently, anyone would think she might be lying. And so did Malfoy, apparently, since his gaze narrowed at her.

"Fine," he snapped roughly, which only made Hermione's grin wider.

He was about to step closer to the entrance of the hall, when Hermione stopped him with her wand to his chest. "Oh, and Draco?" He appraised her curiously, the use of his first name surprising him. "If you ever call me a Mudblood again, you can kiss your family jewels goodbye." She grinned. "Happy Halloween."

And with that final statement she strutted into the Great Hall leaving Malfoy following behind her with a scowl on his face.


	3. November

**November**

****.

Draco winced when he felt the familiar cold, wet ball of ice hit him on the side of his face. Gritting his teeth, he slowly straightened himself and raised a gloved hand to shove the abomination off his face and shoulder with quick, firm brushes before his narrowed gaze landed on the culprits at hand. The two first-years who had been playing in the snow gulped at his sneer before mumbling apologies and running the opposite direction as fast as they could. Had he had the use of his wand…

Deciding not to dwell on what might have been, Draco continued his solitary walk towards the Quidditch pitch. It was the first snowfall in November, and the constant laughter was sickening. If this were a few years ago, he would be with Crabbe and Goyle sending freak snowballs towards unsuspecting bystanders and enjoying the sputtering swears that never ceased to amuse them. He would have laughed at Crabbe and Goyle's lack of aim while he hit the intended target over and over. He was king once, not the eighth-year Slytherin who was shackled to a life that was almost Muggle.

When Draco finally made his way over to the grounds, he found the Quidditch pitch frozen and covered with a white dusting of snow. Like his father, he had never bothered with warming charms. It was a Malfoy trait, his father had said, to be able to stand in the cold weather with nothing but the basic coat and gloves, and even though he hadn't been used to it when he was little, Draco had persevered through sheer stubbornness until he could step outside and not let the cold air bother him. He watched as the Slytherin Quidditch team, wearing the familiar silver and green robes, trotted out of the locker rooms before the seven players mounted their brooms and took to the air.

"Miss it?"

Draco turned to glance at the person joining him before his eyes once again sought the players. "Every day."

Blaise came to stand beside him, the heat radiating off of him from the charm he had placed on himself. "It doesn't make sense why the eighth-years can't play."

Draco shrugged as he watched the Keeper fumble an easy catch. "As long as Potter can't, I'm happy."

Blaise let out a small laugh. "Will this competition between you two ever end?"

"Not until I win."

They were silent for a moment as they watched the Quaffle pass from one player to another, while the Bludger nearly hit the Captain before he did a complex move that saved his head from being bludgeoned.

"Before I forget…" Blaise pulled out a small package from the inside of his robes and handed it over. It was a box no bigger than the palm of his hand and as unimpressive as a regular box anyone could attain. "You're lucky my mother has a love for collecting the most rarest and most useless artefacts."

Draco took the box, and without checking its contents, put it in the pocket of his robes. "She won't know it's missing?"

"I told you, she collects things. She doesn't check on the items as often as she should." Blaise paused before he glanced at Draco in a poor imitation of a casual stance. "What do you need unicorn hairs for, anyway?"

"It's an experiment."

"So you said." Again, Blaise paused as he contemplated his next words. "Pansy says she hasn't seen you often enough. Neither have I."

"I didn't know my company was missed."

Blaise dropped any pretence of watching the players as he turned fully to face his friend. "What are you up to, Draco?"

Draco shrugged, his smile strained. "When I figure it out, you will be the first one I tell."

"Right," said Blaise, his tone betraying distrust. "Of course." They looked once again at the blur of green and silver, the turns, the dips and the drills before Blaise spoke once again. "And to think Mudbloods prefer the ground over flying, even if it is ice. Did you see them? Moving along the Black Lake like it was the most normal thing in the world?"

He had, actually. Draco had stood and watched the annoying trio gliding over the frozen lake, laughing and joking while Pothead and Weaslebee kept falling over. When the three seemed not to incur any more accidents, he had gotten bored and moved on. Granger, especially, drew his attention more than she should have.

"A bloody stupid Mudblood practice," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"That it is," his friend agreed. "That it is."

* * *

Hermione loved the first snowfall before Christmas. It reminded her of hot chocolate, warm sweaters, sweet cookies and a brilliantly decorated Christmas tree. The holiday was taken very seriously in the Granger household. Her mother used the winter holidays as an excuse to bake anything that she thought appropriate while her father's unhealthy obsession with lights was put to the test. The fact that he had an on-going competition against the neighbours regarding Christmas cheer didn't help matters either.

She wondered if they had changed in any way the past year. Perhaps her mother was looking through cookbooks for the right recipes and her father had begun buying shops' worth of Christmas decorations. She could imagine the mock arguments that they would have over her father's lack of electrical skills and her mother's failure to bake the appropriate amount of treats. Remembering those little fights made Hermione miss them terribly. She hoped their lives in Australia weren't too different from England.

Hermione let herself enjoy the biting cold for a moment before raising her wand and placing a heating charm on herself. Pocketing her wand, she looked up, letting the tiny flakes of ice fall lightly onto her lashes and coat her in white. Unknowingly, her lips quirked upward at the memory of how she had spent the day following the first snowfall.

It was at this time of the year that Ron and Harry's childishness didn't really bother her. They had a snowman-building competition - a challenge that she should have won by default since the other two looked more like blobs than actual men - followed by an impromptu snowball fight where a stray ball might have hit McGonagall, and after much insisting, she took her two best friends ice skating on the Black Lake. Teaching them hadn't been all that difficult, and Ron fell on his arse so many times her stomach hurt from laughing.

With a sigh of contentment, she pulled her coat tightly around herself and started walking aimlessly. Everyone she knew was currently using the first snowfall as an excuse to stay indoors and do homework after a day of playing like children. As the sole person who had done all her work when it was first assigned, Hermione found herself being constantly asked to look over Harry and Ron's work. She barely made it through a page of leisurely reading before she had to decline the fifth attempt to correct a mistake made. Deciding that she needed time away from such requests, Hermione had excused herself, shrugged on her sweater, and prepared to leave, only to give in to her best friends' sad faces and promise to look over their homework after she went down to the kitchens. Even though she promised to bring Ron a few biscuits, Hermione had turned away from the kitchens and decided to walk along the grounds of Hogwarts before the doors of the castle closed for the night. She was barely left alone these days. And even though she would never admit it, there were times when she craved to have moments alone with her thoughts.

Hermione continued to walk aimlessly, her mind automatically going through the day's Transfiguration lesson, before a sound caught her attention. It sounded like a grunt of frustration, and before she even knew it, Hermione had made her way over to the Black Lake to investigate.

There was someone sprawled face up on the icy surface of the lake in a most undignified manner. Hermione was too surprised to do anything but stare. She could recognise that hair anywhere. Ever since they had come back to Hogwarts to complete their N.E. , she had seen only glimpses of Draco Malfoy except for that one time in Halloween where the Firewhisky he had consumed had done most of the talking. He never stayed anywhere unless he was required to, and any time Hermione had tried to have a conversation with him, he had dodged her like she had a contagious disease.

She watched him as he grunted and tried to get up, but at the last moment, his foot slipped, and he fell once again with a painful, "Oof" leaving his lips.

Pulling out her wand, Hermione transfigured her shoes into skates before slipping onto the ice easily. If he was surprised to see her, he hid it well, his gaze neutral as he watched her skate towards him.

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion when she got closer to him. If she didn't know any better, she would have called what he wore, skates. But they seemed a poor imitation of the real thing and therefore, not appropriate to balance a person's weight on.

"Malfoy…" She wasn't sure what to do. Should she ask him if he needed help? Should she just yank him up? Or should she taunt him the way her Hogwarts-self would have done years ago?

He simply glared at her. "What are you waiting for, Granger? Help me up."

Hermione bristled at the order but decided to help him up anyway. It was, after all, the right thing to do. "This won't work," she mumbled to herself before transfiguring his skates until they were similar to hers. When she was done, Malfoy tried to struggle to his feet. He was halfway there, his lips pursed in concentration, when his foot slipped once again. It was pure instinct that made Hermione reach for him, and it was pure clumsiness that made her fall down with him, her limbs flailing almost hilariously. She landed on him hard, her breath knocking out of her when her chest landed on his.

Vaguely, she wondered what people might think if they had seen the two of them sprawled together on the Black Lake.

Blinking up at him, she was surprised to see his eyes looking, not at her, but straight up at the lightly falling snow. She felt, rather than heard, him release a heavy sigh, before he closed his eyes and let his head loll to the side.

Hermione shifted until she was on her side and looking down at him. He was facing away from her, his features hidden in the dark, although she could still make out how thin he had become from the tautness his pale skin was. The fact that he hadn't shoved her away from him and yelled at her in filth confused her greatly. Preparing herself for some unpleasantness, she nudged him gently, her voice becoming whisper soft. "Malfoy."

He mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "Leave me alone".

Hermione blinked in surprise. He wasn't acting at all the way she thought he would. It was as if every time she met him he was different, too different. His change in behaviour unnerved her. She didn't know what to expect, and, as a result, she didn't know how to behave around him.

Gently, she shifted away from him and started to stand, having all the intention of leaving him out here in the middle of the Black Lake to lie and wait. As she did so, it suddenly occurred to her that skating was a Muggle-born activity. Why was Malfoy doing something that pure-bloods didn't do? Had he seen her teach Ron and Harry how to skate? Did he want to learn?

She looked up. "The snow has lessened." Hermione looked over at his immobile form. "It's the perfect time to go ice skating." She paused. "Would you like to join me?"

He stiffened and then scoffed.

Her lips twisted in amusement. "I taught Ron and Harry how to skate. It's not that difficult, but I was surprised at how fast they picked it up." She looked over at him once again and noticed how he had relaxed, if only slightly. Hermione frowned, a thought entering her mind that was based on so many years of memories. "Ron especially…" she began slowly. "I don't think anyone could have learned as fast as he did."

This time, he turned towards her and snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

She made a show of shrugging her shoulders. "He's really good."

Looking insulted, Malfoy sat up swiftly while balancing his weight on his hands. "He's a clumsy oaf."

Again, she shrugged before smoothly getting onto her feet. "I'm telling you what you already know." She held out a hand for him.

Malfoy stared at her gloved hand warily. "I don't need help."

"I know you don't. I'm doing this to be polite."

She could see the thoughts battling in him in the way his brows furrowed and the way his lips pursed into a grim line. After it felt like her arm might drop for sheer exhaustion, he let out a low breath. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept… to be polite."

Reluctantly, he placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him to his feet. He was unsteady at first, but once his grip tightened on her, he seemed to find his balance. Hermione had to school her face to hide the amusement she felt at how exhausted he looked by simply standing up.

"Now, take me off this wretched thing," he said sternly while glaring in distaste at the ice.

Hermione simply smiled. "No. I wanted to go skating. And you're going to join me."

His eyes narrowed. "Granger—"

She made a move to untangle herself from his arm. "Or we can split up right now." Malfoy panicked, his arms tangling around her until he had pulled her body against his own so he could keep his balance. His breath was coming out in ragged spurts, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. She was standing way too close to him. She hadn't intended to be practically hugging him in the middle of the Black Lake. "You should let me go."

His grip tightened. "Granger, you're not leaving me here." It appeared that the great Draco Malfoy feared falling on his arse way more than he feared touching a Muggle-born witch. She only wished she had a camera to capture this moment.

She stayed silent for a while before she let out a low, "Fine." His grip loosened, and with a flicker of hesitation, he let her untangle herself. "But first, let's do a lap around the lake." His grip tightened around her arm once again. "And then I'll take you safely back to land."

He glared at her. "Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be noble?"

"Maybe," she said with a happy smile. "But I think as a Muggle-born, it would be against my self-imposed duty not to teach you something that is so Muggle that the little pure-blood boy inside you can't help but want to be friends."

He looked at her in horror. "I don't want to be friends with you."

Hermione started pulling away and was amused when he tightened his grip on her arm and followed her. "When will you learn, Malfoy?" She pulled back even further and smiled when he unknowingly skated with her. "It's not that I want to be friends with you…" She skated back once again, and he followed. "It's just that I think it's the only way we can put all that has happened behind us. Wouldn't that be nice," she asked wistfully, "to have a clean slate this year?"

His only answer was to glare at her even as he moved relatively smoothly on the frozen ice. "Granger," he began stiffly, "if I didn't know any better, I would have thought you've lost your mind."

Her brows scrunched together before the true meaning of what he had said hit her, and she sent a dazzling smile his way. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Before he could say anything else, she sped up her movements and was happy to note that Malfoy followed her with ease. She couldn't help but be proud of her ability to teach Quidditch players—even pure-blood Quidditch players—to skate.

* * *

By the time Draco entered the common room, his limbs were aching. He could easily balance on a broom from the age of three, but skates were a Mudblood contraption that he was sure was used for torture. How Mudbloods could balance on two blades was beyond him, although it was hard to admit to himself that he felt a sense of pride for successfully having made two laps around the Black Lake without falling over. The fact that Granger had held him in a tight grip to keep him steady was a fact that he blatantly ignored.

Since the eighth-years were given a tower of their own, Draco couldn't help but miss the dungeons every time he had to say the password to make the stone gargoyle move aside so that the hidden, stone door could swing open. After a day of lessons followed by watching everyone else enjoy the first day of snow, the last thing he had wanted was to see anything but his four-poster bed. Instead, what he entered was a common room full of chatter that immediately dulled the moment he entered.

Draco gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the fact that even after nearly two months, he still had the ability to put people on their guard from the moment he entered a room. Apparently, no one was willing to forget the mark he had on his arm no matter how much he himself wanted to ignore its existence. Perhaps, had he not avoided them all as much as he could, they would be used to him by now. But, he entered when he wanted and left when he wanted, and he was never present in the common room as often as the other eighth-years.

Seeing Pansy sitting in one corner, he headed towards her and sat down heavily in the seat beside hers. He couldn't help but feel thankful that even though McGonagall had made all possible efforts to ensure that all the houses were forced to co-exist, since the first day of school, all the eighth-years had subconsciously started gathering within their own houses by randomly picking areas of the common room that were distinctly their own. The Hufflepuffs were usually found near the large bookcase, the Ravenclaws were always at the main table doing homework, the Gryffindors preferred their spot right next to the fireplace, and the few Slytherins that remained were shunned to the corner with limited light and space. This was perfectly fine for Draco, who preferred his privacy over the stares and whispers that always followed him.

The moment he collapsed onto the seat next to his friend, Pansy looked up from her book with a bored glance before her eyes went right back to her homework. "You look happy."

Draco caught two girls who were looking at him, their heads together as they spoke in hushed voices. He glared at them, only to smirk when they looked back at him in alarm and stood up to leave. "Bloody ecstatic."

Pansy looked up briefly and saw the girls leave. "It's your fault, you know. You shouldn't have gone to the party with Granger."

Draco scowled. "How many times do I have to say it? I did not go to the bloody Halloween party with the Mudblood."

"Hm," she mumbled noncommittally. "But everyone thinks that you did, and now you are apparently her new cause."

His lips twisted in annoyance. "Her what?"

"You know Granger," Pansy said flippantly. "She has a love for the weak and harmless." Pansy grinned, an evil glint in her eye as she cocked her head to the side and mockingly considered him. "I suppose it would make sense that she would see the possibility of introducing you back into society that chooses not to accept you as a worthier cause than freeing house-elves who don't want to be freed."

Draco glared at her. "You're lucky I can't hex you."

Her smirk widened. "And you're adorable when you're angry."

Draco scowled as he settled further into his seat. It appeared that his life was getting harder and harder. Part of him couldn't help but compare the life he was leading this year to the life he led the previous year. He had thought living with constant fear of failure was hard, but apparently, living with constant shame seemed worse.

When he happened to look up, he paused when he noticed Pansy staring at him. "What?" he snapped.

Her features softened as she leaned forward, and Draco couldn't help but feel wary of getting a concerned look from her. "Have you been eating lately?" She raised her hand and touched his cheek gently. "You've gotten thinner."

Shrugging away from her, he narrowed his gaze. "Speaking to Blaise lately?"

Pansy didn't look put off by his avoidance. She simply shrugged and leaned back into her own seat as her voice took on a tone of forced casualness. "He mentioned that you haven't been eating with him lately. And since you haven't been eating with me either…" She shrugged. "We were just wondering when you usually go to the Great Hall for meals."

_Never_, would have been the true answer. Everyone always stared at him, people always shifted away from him and some actually turned on their heels and walked the other way whenever they saw him walking down the halls towards them. In sixth year, they knew his father was a Death Eater, but he was too distracted to notice the stares and whispers. In seventh year, everyone had their own worries in trying to survive each day with the Carrows. Now that they all knew that he was a Death Eater and the Carrows were called criminals, the stares and whispers were too blatant to ignore.

"I go at other times."

"When?"

"That's none of your business."

Pansy sighed before she went back to her homework. "Just know that you can always join me and Blaise whenever we go."

Draco stayed silent. He appreciated their offer, but he doubted he would accept it. Besides, he was busy at those times.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention as he saw Granger walk in with two plates of biscuits. Scowling further, he looked away, trying his best to ignore the call of greeting from her friends.

Against his will, Draco listened. He heard Pothead and Weasel thank her, he heard them call her, "Brilliant," which made him blanch in distaste, and he heard her excuse herself with the intention of going to bed. Draco kept looking at nothing in particular, willing his gaze to stay still, even though he was aware that Granger would have to pass him and Pansy to go to the girls' dormitory.

He became insanely aware of how close she came to him with each step and waited with bated breath for the moment that she would pass him. He hoped that she would never tell a soul of their interactions; he promised himself that he would hex her—some way, somehow—if she did.

What he didn't expect was for a plate of biscuits to be placed before him as her voice stated calmly, "I thought you might be hungry," before she left the common room with utter silence in her wake. Draco looked up in dread, noticing how everyone who had been in their own little worlds were staring at him as if he had a Hippogriff's head instead of his own. Potter and Weasley looked like they would like nothing better than to hex him on the spot.

Pansy, on the other hand, looked as if she was finding it difficult to hold back a laugh. "I think Granger noticed that you haven't been eating either."

Scowling at her, he stood up and started towards the boys' dormitories, leaving the biscuits where they were. Draco cursed under his breath with each violent step. That bint had just made his life infinitely worse.


	4. December

**December**

**.**

Hermione tried several times to get Draco Malfoy's attention.

At first, it was like a game to her. After years of having to endure his torturous taunts, she was finally able to deal it back without resorting to the same tactics he did. She was adamant to kill her childhood bully with the one thing he seemed to not only be confused by, but also hate more than anything else in the world: kindness.

At first, it was the small things that got to him.

She noticed how thin he had become; his cheekbones were sharper, his frame lankier and his cheeks were practically hollow. This meant that not only did she herself bring food and place it before him, but also with help from a few house-elves, he was brought food at all hours of the day. When he had gotten mad and thrown a dish against the wall of the boys' dormitories, Hermione told the house-elves to stop their service for fear of their safety. She could defend herself against him without breaking the rules so she continued to urge Malfoy to eat without much subtlety.

He refused to eat to spite her and his scowls only served to add a spring to her step. Hermione had never considered herself the payback kind, but her chosen victim was not only making it enjoyable for her, but he kept her busy when she found herself lonely.

Ginny was still not talking to her due to the breakup with her brother, and poor Harry was forced to divide his time between Hermione and his girlfriend. Add to that the fact that Ron was blissfully entranced by Parvati and was determined to do anything that she asks, Hermione found herself alone most of the time.

Years ago she would have embraced having such time to herself. But after years of having companionship, the loneliness began to wear on her. Draco Malfoy was a happy distraction in lieu of that.

"Need any help?"

Malfoy's shoulders slumped at the sound of her voice. While a part of Hermione enjoyed the fact that he had such a reaction to her, another small part of her hated the fact that his reaction was one that was so hostile.

"No," Malfoy said easily as he bent down to pick up his bag.

Hermione couldn't help but notice how clumsy he was recently. He was always dropping things.

After a moment of hesitation, she got on her knees to help him gather his things. Malfoy didn't make any snide remarks about it, even though Hermione kept looking at his direction in expectation. Once she had picked up a quill and handed it to him, Malfoy stared at it for a moment before yanking it away from her grip and stuffing it into his bag without much thought.

"You're welcome," Hermione said carefully.

Malfoy didn't say a word. He stood up quickly and left, without so much as a glance behind him.

As Hermione sighed and turned to go to her next class herself, her glance fell on a certain Slytherin who had been watching their interaction from the side.

Pansy Parkinson raised an immaculate eyebrow in question and Hermione, frazzled by her expression as well as the knowledge that Parkinson had been watching them, turned on her heel and left.

She had to really focus on her classes, not Slytherins and their behaviour.

* * *

Draco scowled at the bowl that was placed before him. It looked like soup.

"What's this?"

Pansy raised a mocking eyebrow as she sat down next to him, essentially blocking him in when Blaise took the seat on the other side of him. When Draco looked at his friend in disbelief, Blaise shrugged. It couldn't have been any more obvious that Pansy had gotten Blaise involved in this under duress.

"It's food," Pansy said with a bored tone. "Eat."

Draco felt his stomach growl in hunger, but he pushed the food away nonetheless. As hungry as he was, nothing seemed to appease his appetite. Nothing stayed down long enough for his hunger to be satisfied, and the last thing he needed was for his two so-called friends to know this new development of his life. They might make things difficult for him.

Besides, he had a growing suspicion as to _why_ Pansy decided to taunt him by bringing him food, something that she would not do for her own sickly mother. He eyed the soup warily. He really shouldn't trust any form of apparent kindness that she acts upon. There was always something more; a hidden agenda, one might say.

Pansy sighed, rolling her eyes first for effect. "Fine. I'll take it."

Leaning forward, she picked up the bowl, dipped the spoon in it and sipped at it with relish. Draco looked away when his stomach growled again.

His eyes fell on a Gryffindor who was seated at the other end of the common room. She was busy hunched over a book, her brows scrunched thoughtfully together.

Blaise shifted in his seat and got comfortable. "Have any of you heard from Goyle recently?"

"Not for a while," Draco mumbled distractedly. "I thought he was staying with his grandmother."

Draco vaguely wondered if it hurt her head to concentrate so much.

"My mother met his grandmother about a week ago. He hasn't been home for a while, it seems."

"Must be busy."

She frowned further as she bit the tip of her quill. A curl fell across her cheek and she hastily pushed it behind her ear. She kept nibbling on the end of her quill. What a bad habit, Draco thought.

"He should be here," Pansy piped in from the other side of him. "He should finish off Hogwarts like the rest of us and move on."

"Your father wasn't a Death Eater," Blaise said pointedly.

She leaned forward to pull a large book towards her. Her robes rose higher and from the side Draco could see a small expanse of her bare leg before she went back to her position and her robes covered her body wholly.

"What are you looking at?"

Draco dropped his gaze to scowl at Blaise. "Nothing."

When he turned towards Pansy she simply gave him a meaningful look. She didn't say a word as she took another sip of the warm soup.

"Don't worry about it, Blaise," Pansy said with a knowing tone to her words, "you'll figure it out soon enough."

Draco didn't wait for the onslaught of teasing that Pansy clearly planned to shower on him. Cursing under his breath he left the common room to go to his favourite secluded spot to have a nip of something strong.

As he walked, he shoved his hand into the pocket of his robes, his fingers circling a small vial that hadn't been there a moment ago. Draco smiled. Blaise had slipped him the last ingredient he needed while under the pretence of appeasing Pansy. He immediately forgot the idea of a solitary drink and started focusing on the work he had to do.

He felt Granger's eyes on him as he passed her on his way to the door.

* * *

The last day before Christmas break didn't go quite as Hermione thought it would.

During Potions period, Neville tripped, knocking over his potion, which in turn fell on Ron's robes, causing the material to burst into bright purple flames. When Hermione and Harry started looking around in panic for something to douse the flames with, Pansy Parkinson, Ron's forced partner for this exercise, easily ripped his robes in half and yanked the material away from him. Hermione barely had time to appreciate this act of kindness when Pansy did the unthinkable and tossed the flaming robes at Hermione. The robes knocked against Hermione's shoulder, falling to the ground with dancing flames as her own robe caught fire. Hermione shrugged out of her robes fast, before her gaze fell on a smirking Pansy and she tossed her own robes against the Slytherin who no doubt tried to kill her. Pansy shrieked as she shrugged out of her own burning robes and started towards Hermione with an intent glare on her face.

By the time Professor Slughorn had heard the sounds of chaos and turned around to see what the possible commotion was, Hermione, Ron and Pansy were breathing deeply, robes torn and hair singed, glares in place while a dishevelled Neville stood in the middle as he looked at them all sheepishly. Harry shook his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he cursed under his breath. He didn't think he could handle such panic anymore.

They spoke over each other, hands flailing, gazes narrowed, but Professor Slughorn simply shook his head sympathetically as he passed on his verdict: detention, for the four of them. Harry was more than a little satisfied that he wasn't roped in with the rest, although Hermione had no qualms about saying that the reason for his exclusivity was how fond Professor Slughorn was of his most favourite student's son.

That is how Hermione found herself in the Trophy room on her knees using a dirty rag to wipe a Ravenclaw award that was almost as tall as her. The work would not have been as tedious if it weren't for the two who were bickering right behind her.

"That's not how it's done."

"Really? I suppose a Slytherin priss like you knows how best to wipe down anything?"

"I am a Parkinson," Pansy hissed. "We _own_ things; things that you and your pauper of a family would never see in a hundred years. We know how to take care of our valuables."

Hermione looked over her shoulder just in time to see the two of them leaning back on their knees to eye each other warily. Ron's jaw tightened before he reached for a rag that was floating in a bucket of soapy water and tossed it at her. When the wet rag hit Pansy's face and she let out a gasp of indignation, Ron smirked happily as he went back to polishing a shield with extra vigour. His smirk fell when Pansy reached for the very bucket he had been using and proceeded to douse him over the head with the water that was inside of it. She placed the bucket back down with an arrogant air as he blinked the soap out of his eyes. "Must be nice having a bath after so long, isn't it, Weasley?"

Before Ron could do something much worse, Hermione stood up quickly and moved to stand between them. Ron had already pushed back his wet hair as his hand tightened around the shield he had been polishing. His eyes were narrowed dangerously.

"This is not the time," Hermione said calmly to her best friend before looking pointedly at Pansy and her smug expression. "Both of you."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "You're taking her side?"

"I'm not." Hermione saw Neville duck behind a pile of old cups quickly, probably in hope of avoiding this altercation. If Hermione was going to be part of it, she saw no reason why Neville should not. "Neville? Maybe we should switch now."

Neville popped his head out from a particularly bright trophy and opened his mouth to reply her when Pansy easily spoke over him.

"Get back to work, Longbottom. Leave the heavy lifting to those who won't mess it up."

Ron glared at her. "Don't talk to him like that."

Neville shifted from one foot to the other. "It's okay—"

"Not now, Neville," Ron snapped at him before glaring once again at Pansy.

Pansy simply raised a mocking eyebrow at him.

Hermione sighed before she turned fully towards Neville. "I think it's better if you help Ron while I work with Pansy."

"Hermione…" Ron's protests died down once she placed her hands on her hips and gave him a meaningful look. "Fine," he said explosively as he started getting to his feet to go to the other end of the trophy room. Hermione could barely hear him mutter, 'Bloody nuisance' under his breath as he walked away.

Once Hermione took Ron's place and started polishing the shields he had been polishing, Pansy let out a low laugh.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you used the _Imperius Curse_ on these two."

Hermione didn't favour her with a reply. She simply rubbed the shield harder with the rag.

Looking at her with amusement, Pansy continued. "Is that what you're doing with Draco? Are you trying to control him?"

Hermione's head snapped up in surprise. "What?"

"Ah! She speaks! I guess even Draco's name has magical abilities to make any Mudblood talk."

Hermione's lips pursed at the insult. "I could bring Ron back, you know."

"Ugh. That clumsy oaf is better with Longbottom. They can be clumsy together."

As Hermione went back to the act of polishing, Pansy ignored her work as she kept a scrutinising eye on her companion.

"I don't understand you, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her actions hardly affected by the discussion. "I didn't think you wanted to try."

"I don't," Pansy said hastily, a small frown marring her features. "What I don't understand is your fascination for _my_ friend. You have your own. Why not keep them? I would be willing to trade, but Potter is too self-righteous and Weasley is too… Weasley." She shuddered for effect.

Huffing, Hermione dropped any pretence of work to give Pansy an annoyed look. "What are you on about?"

"Draco," Pansy said calmly as she went back to her own work. "For some reason you're following him around Hogwarts like a little tart."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden. "I am _not_ following him around. And I am _not_ a tart."

"Fine. Prove it, then." Pansy looked at her meaningfully. "Leave him alone."

Hermione's lips parted in indignation before she understood the merit behind Pansy's insulting request. "Fine," she said finally, choosing her next words carefully. "I won't seek him out."

Pansy let out a low breath as if she was finally relieved. "Good."

The rest of detention passed without an incident, unless someone considered Ron using another bucket of soapy water to dump on Pansy's head, which in turn led to a rag and water fight that Neville and Hermione tried their best to avoid, an incident. Unfortunately for Hermione, before she could straighten the whole place out, their warden appeared with usual scowl adorning his already displeased features.

It barely took a minute before Filch surveyed the Trophy room before he deemed it insufficiently cleaned and demand they come back during the first week after Christmas break to finish the job.

Hermione and Neville stifled a groan as Ron and Pansy glared at each other so hard that one would have surely burst into flames had their gazes not dropped at the very last minute.

* * *

It seemed like every time he turned around, Draco was assaulted with another celebration. He didn't understand why everyone around him was fascinated with the idea of throwing parties. Every occasion was a cause for celebration. He hated every minute of it. But there were certain perks he could draw from when everyone at Hogwarts was too busy acting like children. He had peace and quiet. He could concentrate.

Draco didn't bother with a warming charm as he stepped outside onto the roof of the Astronomy Tower. The wind whipped around him strongly, the snow fell in a steady stream of white. At moments like these, when he felt alone, he breathed a little easier. Usually, he could feel eyes burning into his back while people judged him. It was liberating not to steel himself from glares and sneers.

Tonight was the night when Hogwarts was hosting its first annual Christmas Party since the fall of the Dark Lord. At midnight stockings will be filled with ridiculously wrapped gifts and the celebration will continue as everyone opens their presents. Draco knew for a fact that his stocking would be filled with coal, maybe one or two gifts from Blaise and Pansy.

With cautious steps he made his way to the very edge of the Astronomy Tower. He placed both hands on the bannister, letting his fingers brush against the wood in contemplation for a moment until a splinter got stuck in his thumb. Draco winced as he pulled it out and tossed it to the side. He then placed his hands on the wood once again, palms facing down as he leant against the bannister and looked down, studying the steep drop with thoughtful eyes.

He could remember the moment when the curse had hit Albus Dumbledore's chest; the moment he had fallen from the Astronomy Tower, already dead before his body had reached the ground.

Would he fall? Would he die the moment his head hit the ground?

Draco stepped back, his courage dwindling with each passing second. He had planned this excursion for months. Surely, he was ready. Surely, this was meant to be.

Draco stepped back further, keeping his feet flat and steady as he kept moving backwards until his back hit the wall. He couldn't help but shiver from the cold. His forehead felt clammy with sweat.

He could do this. It was now or never. _He could do this_.

As he always did before a game of Quidditch, Draco imagined what success would feel like, what it would look like, as well as the expressions of his father and mother when they hear of the news. He imagined how his mother would sigh happily and wrap him in her arms while his father would clap his hand on Draco's shoulder and smile proudly at him. It was that thought that made him smile.

Draco ignored the weakness he felt in his limbs. It had been several days since he had last eaten, every meal forced between his lips was spit out less than a minute later. But it would all be worth it if this becomes a success.

Taking in one final deep breath before letting it out slowly, Draco straightened his back in preparation. He didn't think. He didn't second-guess himself. He ran, leapt over the bannister and jumped from the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

"Leaving again?"

Hermione squinted through tear-filled eyes at her best friend. She had just suffered through her fourth yawn in a row and she was feeling the need to sleep all through her exhausted body.

"How did you know?" she asked with a small, tired laugh. She took a sip of her drink and placed it on a nearby table. She had been thinking of leaving, not necessarily standing near the entrance ready to bolt.

Harry shrugged, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I could guess."

Hermione felt the urge to yawn again, which she did as she tried to follow the rules of etiquette and delicately cover her mouth.

This made Harry laugh. "Come on, I'll walk you."

"I am hardly a Damsel in Distress in need of an escort, Harry. Besides, what about…?" She looked around the Great Hall until her eyes fell on a familiar redhead. Hermione twitched her head towards Ginny's direction.

Harry followed Hermione's gaze before shrugging lightly. "She was the one who sent me over here."

"Oh." Hermione felt her back stiffen. "She wants me to leave that much?"

His laugh was light. "No, she was worried that you might sleepily keep walking until you've fallen into the Black Lake. Why won't you just go talk to her?"

"She needs to apologise first," Hermione said stubbornly.

Harry let out a tired sigh. "That's what she told me when I suggested that she talk to you," he said pointedly. "You two are going to waste the year waiting for the other to apologise."

Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him stubbornly. "She started it."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You're so stubborn!"

"And she's not?"

"She's worse," he said without hesitation. "All of this because of Ron, who has moved on?"

Hermione saw Ron over Harry's shoulder as he leant closer to Parvati, their heads practically touching. Pansy walked by, a snide comment on her lips and an unpleasant stare aimed right for their best friend. Ron looked up and glared at her as she passed, Parvati forgotten.

"I suppose it's silly," Hermione mumbled under her breath. "I can't talk to her first, though." They could go into battle, face a Dark Lord with a dwindling army, defeat him and save the world, but a petty schoolyard fight was what made them stop talking. Hermione would have found the whole situation hilarious if it weren't for the fact that Ginny had expressed such a low opinion of her when she had broken up with her brother. Maybe Ginny hadn't meant it, but her words had hurt. Hermione hadn't been kind in her words when she had retaliated either.

Realising that the battle was a losing one, Harry gestured towards the entrance. "Let me walk you."

Hermione nodded as she sleepily took his arm and let her escort her. As they left the Great Hall, she relaxed against him, allowing herself to place her head on his shoulder and close her eyes while they kept walking. She trusted Harry enough to know that he wouldn't let her stumble or fall. She missed having his shoulder to lean on. She missed him.

"We haven't spent much time together this year, have we?"

"No," Harry said softly. "Things have been busy."

"With Ginny?"

He was silent for a moment. "Can I talk to you about this?"

His tone made her open her eyes and pull her head away from him so she could see his face. "What is it?"

They were now walking down a long, open corridor that was completely empty. Even though there was no one around, her voice had been soft.

Harry hesitated. "Things have been different lately. I love her," he added hastily. "I do! It's just… She keeps asking me questions that I can't seem to answer."

"What questions?"

"About the Horcruxes. About Voldemort. She asked me if—"

A sudden rustling sound caused him to stop mid-sentence. Hermione looked around. She had heard it too.

Looking at each other with silent communication, they pulled apart, untangling themselves from the other before quietly pulling out their wands. Harry gestured towards a patch of garden to their left. Hermione nodded and started for it, agreeing that the sound had come from that direction.

They moved quietly, years of training keeping them cautious with their backs trained to each other. It was Hermione who found him.

"Malfoy," she breathed out, surprised, as she quickly fell onto her knees beside him. He looked to have fallen amongst a range of bushes, cuts decorating his face and most of his body that was exposed when the robes fell haphazardly around him. Hermione placed a hand on his chest and felt her shoulders relax. He was still breathing. He was only unconscious.

Looking up, she eyed Harry expectantly. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?"

Harry, who had been staring at Malfoy as if he had suddenly seen a ghost, blinked rapidly, breaking himself out of a reverie. "Right. Sorry."

"What do you think happened?" Hermione looked all around as she tried to assess the situation. She wondered if he had any broken bones or fractures.

Harry joined her on the other side of Malfoy; his first instinct was to look up. "I think he jumped."

Hermione followed his gaze, her eyes landing on the top of the Astronomy tower before falling once again on the unconscious Slytherin. "Help me get him to Madam Pomfrey."

Together they decided to levitate his body to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey who had been enjoying a night away from sickly children mumbled under her breath when they appeared. However, her displeasure didn't stop her from efficiently taking Malfoy off their hands and telling them curtly, "Visiting hours are over."

Hermione instantly protested. "But we found him—"

"You can see him tomorrow."

Before Hermione could say another word, a curtain was yanked in front of her face. Harry placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

"You can see him tomorrow morning."

She shook her head. "The Hogwarts Express leaves before visiting hours start."

Harry stayed silent, his brows knitted in a frown.

"What is it?"

He eyed her curiously, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to understand. "I didn't know you were such good friends with him."

"I'm not," Hermione said quickly. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying her best not to worry her lower lip the way her best friends knew she did. "Whatever that happened… It looked dangerous, that's all."

Harry nodded, his expression giving away that he has his own thoughts he was thinking about. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why were you looking at him like that?"

His frown turned grim as he looked away from her. He obviously understood what she was meant. "Was just remembering the mistakes I've made."

He didn't have to say anything further. Hermione circled an arm around his waist as they started walking back from where they came from. In an effort to change the subject, Hermione couldn't help but ask, "What are the chances of Molly Weasley actually accepting me at the Burrow after I broke up with her son? Do you think Ron was lying when he said that she had invited me to stay over for the holidays?"

Harry thought on that for a moment. "She loves you," he said finally. "She'll probably welcome you with open arms, get you to do all the cleaning as punishment and then forget the whole business."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That sounds perfect."

"On the other hand," continued Harry seriously, "there's also a good chance she might poison you and use you for a Muggle-born trophy."

Hermione didn't think before whacking him twice for such a snide remark, her own laughter joining his. And even though her best friend drew her attention for that brief moment, she still thought of another person as she climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express the next morning.

Molly Weasley's wrath wasn't the only thing Hermione thought of during those two weeks. She thought of one particular Slytherin so often that she had started thinking of him as 'Draco' in her mind.

.


	5. January

**A/N: Thank you to those who still read and review this story. I know it's been a while, but it's good to know that there are still people who read this out there. Anyways, writer's block is done and I'm working on the next chapter right this minute.  
**

**January  
**

**.**

The carriage ride to the castle was a silent one. Hermione concentrated on the book in her hands, trying her best to ignore the disruptive carriage movement as it bounced haphazardly on the uneven road. During these random bouts of movement when she was unable to see the words in front of her past a blurry line on the page, her gaze would flit upwards to Ron with a glare in place.

Ron, for his benefit, chose to stare at his shoes with such an intense interest that nothing around him could pull his concentration. There was one occasion when he had looked up in time to meet her gaze, but that moment had passed quickly when he had ducked his head and hunched his shoulders into himself.

Harry sat between them both, his chosen seat being beside Ron and opposite Hermione in an effort to keep the peace. To his credit, he had tried to broach a number of subjects ranging from exams and candy, to Quidditch and Professor Binns, in an effort to entice a conversation out of them both. He was not successful, and as they finally reached Scotland, Harry had shaken his head, sighed, and given up on patching things up.

Another particularly bumpy area of road made Hermione look up, her glance falling on Ginny who was sitting beside her, another person between Ron and herself. The redhead gave her a polite smile before her eyes met Harry's.

Things hadn't been as awkward with Ginny as Hermione thought it would be. It took several failed attempts, but finally, they spoke over a shared mug of hot chocolate and somewhat cleared the air. They weren't back to how their friendship was before Hermione had broken up with Ron, but they were close. Ginny admitted to not understanding why Hermione would date her bother if she had had reservations, and Hermione in turn spoke of how she had no true friends—her own unshared friends—to speak to about these things. Ginny had warmed to her after that small confession, and Hermione hoped that they could move on as a result of their discussion.

Ron, however, was another story.

Once the carriage stopped and they got out of it to start the short walk to the castle, Ginny fell in line with Hermione while the boys followed closely behind them.

"Do you reckon she's still mad?" Hermione head Ron ask Harry with a loud whisper. "She hasn't spoken a word to me practically for the whole winter break."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she huffed in annoyance. After everything how could he still not _know_?

"Well," Harry began diplomatically, his whisper just as loud. "You did lie to her, Ron."

"I didn't know that Mum was mad at her!" Ron said loudly, his ending words becoming softer as if he was suddenly worried about being overheard. "Mum told me to invite my friends," Ron continued with a whisper. "She's my good friend, after all."

Ginny let out a loud snort from beside Hermione, immediately looking over her shoulder to look sympathetically at her older brother. "Don't be daft; of course Mum was mad at her. The Daily Prophet did a double feature on how she strung you along and broke your heart. You know Mum believes that drivel."

"Oi!" Ron snapped at his sister before he let out a low groan of annoyance. "This is a private conversation. Stop eavesdropping!"

Ginny met Hermione's amused gaze and rolled her eyes for show as they trudged on, a fair number of Hogwarts students close enough to hear their conversation while they walked past.

Ron cleared his throat behind them before saying sheepishly, "Besides, after everything the Prophet has done Mum should know not to believe everything it says."

"That might be true, Ron," Harry said gently. "But it doesn't mean that she won't. She asked me the other day whether I was considering becoming the Headmaster of Hogwarts after my seventh year. The Prophet has been telling lies about me again."

Ginny looked over her shoulder to share a smile with Harry. "And Mum believes them all."

As they finally reached the steps of the Hogwarts castle, Hermione hung back with a quick mumble about wanting to put the book in her hand into the knapsack she carried. She wanted to visit the library before unpacking her things. And if she was going to borrow any books, she needed her hands free to rifle through the pages and carry what she wanted.

Ginny and Harry waved at her before entwining their fingers and going inside the castle. The nervous shifting of someone beside her made Hermione look up with a cock of her eyebrow once her book had been secured in its fastenings.

Ron shrugged when her gaze met his, his nervousness increasing. "We're good, right?"

Hermione sighed. She had been holding onto her anger for the past two weeks because she was forced to politely work through the blatant favouritism Molly Weasley had for Ron and Harry over her. It had been fourth year all over again, only worse because she had decided to live at the Burrow for a fortnight. If she had anywhere else to be she would have gladly moved on.

"You need to talk to her," Hermione said sternly as she threw her knapsack over her shoulder. "You need to explain to her that I'm not the enemy, that we both wanted this—"

Hermione paused when Ron's head dropped suddenly, his ears reddening with embarrassment.

"What is it?" she asked softly, more out of curiosity that anything else.

Ron looked up at her reluctantly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "That's the thing…" He took a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself. "I didn't want… _that_."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at him in horror. Ron had to gently pull her to the side so that a large party of Hogwarts students could walk past them and into the castle.

"What…?" Hermione squeaked. She could remember the conversation vividly. She had forced herself to be courageous as she took a large leap of faith by sitting besides Ron and explaining how she felt. She had breathed easily when he had mumbled that he felt the same, even though his eyes hadn't met hers at the time. She had thought that he was embarrassed to be having the conversation with her in the first place. It had never occurred to her that he had been lying. They were best friends, after all; they could always tell each other the truth.

Ron's attention was pulled away from her as he waved half-heartedly to a few Gryffindors as they entered the castle. Hermione hardly noticed; her eyes were fixed solely on him.

"What do you mean you didn't want that?"

Ron's shoulders drooped as he leant forward to whisper, "Can we talk about this some other time?"

As he made a move to leave, Hermione grabbed onto his sleeve, effectively keeping him on the spot. "No! We can't talk about this later!" She ignored the curious looks other students sent them as her voice got higher and louder. "We need to talk about this _now_!"

Ron looked like he was being absolutely tortured, his ears brightening further as she let go of his sleeve. "I didn't want that. I was happy." His voice got softer, sadder. "I thought you were, too." He shifted from one foot to the other. "Mum sort of knows that."

Hermione felt a guilty pang in her chest as he looked away from her. The train of students had lessened somewhat. Hermione couldn't have been more grateful. Her throat had tightened considerably since this conversation had started.

"Why did you say you were okay with it if you weren't?" she asked softly. His behaviour truly did puzzle her. She didn't understand why he hadn't been honest.

"I don't know." Ron shook his head, his head ducking further so she couldn't see his eyes. "If you love something set it free, right?" Those words were spoken too quickly for Hermione to pick up without a second or two of concentration. Her own cheeks burned as Ron used this distraction to rush away from her, his long legs taking three steps at a time until he had disappeared into a sea of black.

Hermione stood still, unable to concentrate on anything but what Ron had said. If he had only been _honest_ with her… What would have happened, then? Would she have stayed with him out of guilt? Would she have tried harder instead of relying on the question of chemistry?

As she contemplated all these things, the familiar sensation of being watched crept up her spine. Her back stiffened as the hairs on the nape of her neck rose. Maybe it was instinct, but she instantly knew where the look was coming from.

Stepping back, she raised her head towards the unused Astronomy Tower, and sure enough, a shock of blond hair greeted her.

Hermione met Draco's grey eyes intensely, refusing to be the first one to look away. But the call of, "Ms Granger," from Professor McGonagall, who intended to close the large doors of the castle caused Hermione to let go of the petty competition so she could face the Principal. Once she looked back at the Tower, she was disappointed to find that he had gone.

Hermione shook herself out of the reverie as she entered the castle with a polite greeting to her favourite Transfiguration professor. She didn't feel like going to the library anymore. She mostly fancied a small nap, actually. 

* * *

Draco Malfoy cursed colourfully as his potion bubbled over instead of letting out a tangy smell like it was supposed to. He didn't know where his mind was. Every time he tried to put the right ingredient in, he put the wrong one instead. Usually, he couldn't be distracted from his potion making, but today of all days he couldn't note the difference between three eyes of newts and four handfuls of moss.

It was Granger, he decided darkly as his eyes automatically found her form amongst the Hogwarts robes.

He had thought that having two weeks away from her would reduce this unbridled fascination he had for her. That wish had been disastrously dashed when Madam Pomfrey told him in no uncertain terms that a certain Gryffindor couple, minus their one member that made them a trio, had found him and brought him to the Hospital Wing. It appeared that even in his unconscious state he couldn't avoid Hermione—_bleeding_—Granger even if he wanted to. She was everywhere! And when she was not, he was unconsciously looking for her.

Draco spent most of his break thinking about her. Asking himself, why she would want to help him, what was her fascination with him, exactly why _he_ was fascinated with _her_? He wondered if she had been always this interesting or whether he had just noticed.

To make things worse, he wasn't just fascinated with Granger, but he was fascinated with the concept of Weasley _and_ Granger. He had been too busy watching them intently, studying the way Weasley's eyes would meet hers and the way she looked at him, to pay attention to what he had been adding into his cauldron. She was going to be the death of him; of that, Draco was certain.

"I don't get it either," Pansy piped in from beside him.

Draco nearly jumped, having forgotten that she had been paired up with him less than a few minutes ago.

"Don't get what?" Draco asked as nonchalantly as possible. He decided to focus on his potions book instead, the idea of starting all over again materialising in his mind. The cauldron was overflowing to such an extent that it would be better to ignore the problem for now so he could focus on finishing the assignment.

Pansy threw him a disbelieving look. "The Mudblood and the Klutz over there," she said with a twitch of her chin towards Granger and Weasley. She stared at them intently, her head cocked to the side as her own ingredients were added to create a perfect potion that was nearly ready. "I wonder if they fucked each other."

Draco's elbow knocked his cauldron causing it to topple over the table with a large hiss. The whole class turned around to eye him curiously while Slughorn made a humourless quip about hissing potions. Yet, it was one pair of his eyes that Draco found himself concentrating on.

"Careful, Draco," Pansy whispered in his ear as she reached around him to take a handful of his ingredients. "Some people might think you cared."

Draco scowled as he dropped his gaze from Granger's just in time to grab Pansy's wrist and force her to drop the herbs she had intended to use. Pansy did just that with a casual shrug before she went back to brewing her own potion with her own ingredients. She liked to see how far she could take things. Draco had learnt long ago not to let her take _anything_ that he would someday want back.

Draco chose to keep his gaze on his own desk for the rest of the class as he tried to fix the mess he had made. He didn't want to meet Granger's eyes again. 

* * *

Hermione found the days following the beginning of the second term somewhat without incident. She spent her days buried under books in the library while her evenings were spent tending to homework as she sat beside the roaring fireplace of the shared common room. Such evenings found her alone since Ginny was usually with Harry, and Ron made enough excuses, such as an outstanding chess game with Dean, to avoid sitting with her at any cost. Had she not been feeling just as awkward and in need of alone time of her own, Hermione would have told him to stop acting the prat and _talk_ to her.

She was even aware that a certain Malfoy was doing everything in his power to avoid her; a fact that she couldn't ignore after meeting him in the library late at night on several occasions. Hermione had even started following him after a distinct pattern immerged, waiting until he had left to search through the books that seemed to interest him the most. Had it been anyone else, she would have thought that it was simply homework that made them do any form of research.

Draco was different.

Since that first day in September so long ago when she had run into him at the library, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what made Draco Malfoy read so many advanced potions books that was not in their reading lists?

But, it was not until a fateful Transfiguration lesson when she had been forced to sit behind him, that made Hermione eager to fulfill her curiosity. 

* * *

The assignment was to Transfigure your partner's hair into a hat. The assignment seemed easy enough, even for Gryffindor's useless lackeys such as Longbottom and Weaselbee, yet Draco was finding it harder to concentrate on his own spell. Granger simply sat on her chair, facing him fully while eying him with a look that couldn't be described. It was _frustrating_! He really wished they weren't forced to pair up together.

"Stop it!" he snapped at her.

She cocked her head to the side as she eyed him innocently. "Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

She raised an eyebrow at him, her shoulders stiffening as if she was preparing for a fight. "Exactly how am I looking at you?" she asked carefully, her words slow. It looked like she was trying hard not to offend him. Nothing made Draco more suspicious than that sort of behaviour.

Draco let out a low breath through his teeth and dropped his wand. "You go first then, if you're so clever."

Granger barely waited until he had dropped his wand before she raised hers and recited the spell flawlessly. The sensation was a ticklish one, but he got over it quickly enough. The snorts of laughter around him made him glare at her.

Granger grinned, her smile bordering on sheepishness with a twist of smugness that was all her. "I thought pink might suit you better."

Draco cursed under his breath, lifting his wand to mumble the incantation to undo the spell. Once the tickling sensation disappeared, he raised a hand to gingerly touch the soft strands of his hair. Granger watched him intently as he dropped his arm and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What?"

She shook her head quickly as if she had been expecting him to ask her that question for some time. "Nothing."

Draco shrugged as he faced away from her. It was the end of the class and he couldn't wait to leave. He would rather go back to being anywhere where she wasn't. He couldn't help but wonder why, out of every student in Hogwarts, she was the one that he couldn't get rid of.

"I've seen you, you know," she said softly as she stood up swiftly, her hands working fast as she put all her books and quills into her bag. "You've been using our lessons to practice spells behind your desk."

Draco felt his throat become inexplicably dry as he looked up at her.

"You should be more careful," she said, extra books clutched to her chest before she turned to leave with the rest of the class.

Draco sat there for a moment, completely stunned before he collected all his things, dumped them all into his bag unceremoniously and went in search of Granger. He had to make sure that she doesn't tell anyone what she had seen. If the school found out, they would tell the authorities; if the authorities found out, they would snap his wand in half.

He managed to catch up to her a few minutes later, but was forced to hang back until Potter and Weasley went their own way, leaving her to walk to the Gryffindor Tower alone. Draco quickened his pace, practically running in the corridor, shoving other students aside so that he could grab her arm and shove her into the closest empty classroom.

"Malfoy! What—?"

Draco closed the door shut behind them before shoving her roughly against it. "Listen to me," he sneered, using his height to tower over her. "You don't know what you saw. You were mistaken." He used the same tone he used on first years when he used to steal their things. Granger didn't seem to have the same reaction to his tone as the children did. She eyed him defiantly, her eyes empty of fear and full of determination.

"I know what I saw. And I won't lie."

Draco felt like _screaming!_ He wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into her. Instead, he took a deep breath, taking a step forward as he spoke through gritted teeth. "What do you want?"

Granger eyed him suspiciously. "What spells do you do?"

He let out a low laugh, one without humour. "Who says that I'm doing spells?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you?"

He stared at her, wondering, and not for the first time, exactly why he couldn't handle her the way he could handle anyone else. "What do you want, Granger?" he asked her again, his voice wary.

Granger raised a hand and pushed against his shoulder, causing him to step back so she could have some space. "I want to know exactly why you're practicing binding spells."

Draco sneered. "I'm not practicing binding spells."

"Well," she said haughtily. "You're practicing something, and I want to know what that is."

"Why?" he asked her, genuinely confused.

At this, Granger faltered, a beat passing before she spoke again. "I want to help."

Out of all the words she could have told him, Draco did not expect _that_. He was so surprised that he said, "Fine," without really thinking.

Granger looked just as taken aback as he felt. "Okay."

Draco squinted at her, still confused. "Good."

She lifted her chin, her eyes shining with excitement. "Brilliant."

Before he could say another word, she turned around, opened the door and left the classroom, leaving Draco standing there completely confused.

It took a while for his mind to catch up with the sheer thought of what had just occurred, part of him panicking until he realised that just because he agreed to her terms didn't mean that he had to do anything about it. He could still avoid her and ignore her very existence as often as he could.

It was later, as he practiced the movement for the spell he had created, that Granger's true offer materialised in his head, its positive factors undeniable. He cursed loudly, knowing that no one could hear him.

He needed her wand.

.


End file.
